


Heal

by cytheriafalas



Series: Cleaned and Healed [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytheriafalas/pseuds/cytheriafalas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt asking for a sequel to Clean where Merlin deals with his healing hand. So... here it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heal

“Sir, he’s at it again,” Nymue’s voice said over the loudspeakers in Harry’s office.

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck and stood, closing his laptop. “Where is he?”

“In his office.”

“Thank you, Nyume.”

There was no response, and Harry supposed he didn’t need one. Merlin had been released from the infirmary months ago, his ribs and right leg mended, an obvious limp in his left leg as the cartilage in his knee struggled to heal. Nymue had ordered him to take it easy and had forbidden him access to any missions. No briefings, no debriefings, no mission logs, no video feed.

Needless to say, Merlin wasn’t happy about it.

And as he had designed or redesigned nearly every system involved in briefings, debriefings, and mission log and video feed storage, it wasn’t the easiest rule in the world to enforce.

Harry didn’t bother knocking, pushing the door to Merlin’s office open. Merlin was seated at his computers, fingers poised to type, his brace sitting on the table beside him. He looked up at the intrusion and blanched at the look on Harry’s face. It would have been very hand-in-the-cookie-jar, but for the faint traces of discomfort in Merlin’s eyes.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“I’m just trying to get some work done,” Merlin said, rubbing absently at his hand.

Harry crossed to his side, taking Merlin’s hand in his. “You don’t have any work to do right now.” He straightened Merlin’s fingers, watching carefully for any pain as he massaged away the cramps. “You mean you’re trying to hack into the servers. Come on, love. Leave it be.”

Merlin pulled away, flinging his left arm out and sending the brace flying across the room. “This is ridiculous! You can’t keep me from work for the rest of my life.”

“Not the rest of your life,” Harry said, giving Merlin room to pace, ignoring the uneven _step, step… step, step… step, step_ of his feet. “Until you heal.”

Merlin spun to face him, more slowly perhaps than he used to, gesturing to his left leg. “I’m never going to heal. After ten minutes of walking, I need to sit down. After an hour of sitting, I need to get up again. My hand and ribs ache when it rains, and we’re in _England_ and it rains at least three times a day.”

Harry bent to pick up the brace and caught Merlin by the upper arm as he passed. Merlin stopped short, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead. He let out a hiss of pain and Harry caught his wrist. “Come here, love.”

Merlin stepped into Harry’s embrace with a frustrated curse. Harry kissed Merlin’s forehead, then the line of his jaw.

“What has Nymue told you?”

“Time,” Merlin muttered. “But she said herself that there’s no way to know how well I’ll heal. This might be the most I ever get back. Fucking forty words a minute and painkillers enough to ruin my liver.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, holding out the brace. “Time, painkillers, and ice. Let’s head to the kitchen and see what we can find for you.”

Merlin slipped his hand into the brace, trapping the contraption against his side and doing up the Velcro straps. Harry took his other hand, leading him into the kitchen and directing him to sit at the long center island. A few seconds later, he set a towel-covered bag on Merlin’s hand, and Merlin let out a faint sigh of relief as the cool trickled into his skin.

“Give it another couple weeks, then we’ll have Nymue take another look. See how we’re coming.”

“She’s already told me I’ll never fire a gun again, not in combat, anyway.” Merlin looked down at his hand, frowning and trying to flex around the plastic supports. “What good am I to the Kingsman if I can’t type or fire a gun or even hold onto a pen for very long?”

Shaking his head, Harry grabbed Merlin’s wrist above the brace. “You do not get to think that. There is no one I would trust with the agents more than you, do you understand me? Our systems can be voice-activated if they need to be. We can have one of the techs type reports. You don’t need to type while watching feeds. We have touchscreens. We can make it work.”

Merlin avoided his eyes, adjusting the ice pack. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Harry _tsk_ ’ed, then took Merlin’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come on. No agents are in the field right now. There’s no reason for us to be here. I’ve got a bottle of wine chilling at home and we can spend the night together.”

A light of interest entered Merlin’s eyes and the first smile Harry had seen on in days. “We could do.”

Harry kissed him, catching his right hand carefully and pressing a kiss to the cold surrounding the brace. “Let’s go.”


End file.
